


Morning Light

by vesta02



Series: Two Sisters AU [2]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: (Some) Dirty Talk, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Implied Cheating, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Smut, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesta02/pseuds/vesta02
Summary: Clare knows she should say goodbye, walk away and go home to her empty bed.Instead, her tone lowering, a slight tremble to it, she whispers. “Take me home?”---A follow-up (of sorts) to Tether Me as Clare and Mason continue their "relationship".
Relationships: Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Series: Two Sisters AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026141
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> Will this be canon? Has this been thoroughly edited? WHO KNOWS! Seriously though, utter filth, hopefully everyone wound up with all their clothes off ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ fits into the Two Halves of a Whole verse, takes place Book 2 after Bobby gets infected.

Dawn breaks outside and, despite having little sleep, Clare feels wide awake. Adam took Laurel home after they got Bobby settled with the doctors and, while Clare knows there’s little she can do to make things better (her specialty isn’t in supernatural diseases), she sticks around longer, observing and listening on the other side of the glass. She doesn’t care for Bobby personally, knowing what shit he pulled with Laurel only a scant few years ago, but that doesn’t mean she wishes him ill-will on this level.

Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t even notice Mason until he’s at her side, arms close enough to touch if she tried to reach out. She doesn’t though, blue eyes flitting over to him, caught between curiosity and uncertainty. 

“You look tired.” 

“It’s been a long night.” Clare shrugs, tilting her body just slightly towards him when she speaks. “I doubt anyone’s getting much rest with all of this.” She gestures vaguely at Bobby through the glass, though he isn’t the only one that’s been affected by this. It’s a mystery that no one seems to have an answer for, much to the dismay of, well, anyone involved with this.

Silence falls between them as Clare shifts, trying to find the right words to say to diffuse the weird tension between them. It’s the first time, she muses, that they’ve been alone since-

“You should probably go home, Clare.” There’s an unlit cigarette in Mason’s hands as he twirls it idly next to her. His gaze flicks over her, almost indifferent, but Clare swears there’s _something_ beneath the surface.

“I didn’t realize you cared.” It’s not exactly kind and Clare almost instantly regrets it. “Sorry, that wasn’t fair.”

Mason shrugs in her peripheral. “I figured you’d be missed.” Ah yes, the elephant in the room; the mention of her home makes Clare frown, carefully twisting the engagement ring she wears on her left hand anxiously. 

“He’s out of town, so it doesn’t matter.” That catches Mason’s attention as Clare turns to meet his gaze. “It’s just me at home right now.”

“Oh.” It’s tempting to reach out and simply touch him. Clare’s been trying to keep her distance, aware of just how much she’s screwed up in the past; but, like a moth to the flame, she keeps circling closer and closer, barely able to register just how badly it’s going to burn when she gives in. She told him it couldn’t happen again, and Clare meant it. Her boundaries feel fragile today, her willpower all but gone as she gazes up at him with quiet confusion.

She’s not supposed to feel like this, but her heart is a traitorous thing, fluttering and dipping when they stand too close, so aware of him when they occupy the same space.

Clare knows she should say goodbye, walk away and go home to her empty bed. 

Instead, her tone lowering, a slight tremble to it, she whispers. “Take me home?” 

Mason gives her a long, searching look, the twirling of his cigarette stopping with a suddenness at her words. “You sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?” The nickname falls from his lips, asking more questions with that single sentence and Clare knows it. He’s almost preternaturally still, the question lingering for a few, long moments.

Clare’s never been one to play with fire; that’s always been Laurel’s job. But this? This is something she knows will burn, yet she takes the leap anyways.

Her fingers stretch out, tracing along the back of his hand. It’s like electricity runs through her touch, the pair of them both taking in sharp breaths (Clare’s is a hitch while Mason attempts to stifle his own with limited success). “Yes.”

Before he can shrug her off, Clare’s pulling away, turning towards the end of the hallway. She takes a few steps, the certainty wobbling slightly as she wonders if he’s going to follow. She’s not sure how she feels about that possibility, swallowing against growing disappointment. Surprise replaces it, though, when he falls into step with her.

The ride into town is quiet, Clare gazing out at the sun cresting along the hillside as Mason drives. She’s reminded of the last car ride they had together, her face flushing with heat, biting down hard on her lower lip to keep herself from sighing. Does this make her a bad person? It’s thoughts that like this wandering across her mind when she finds herself thinking of Mason when she’s with Liam. That’s something she is certain she should be ashamed of, thinking of another man when your lover’s in your arms at night.

This isn’t who she used to be. But, perhaps, the woman she was got lost in the shuffle when Murphy ripped into her.

The ride is too quick as Clare lingers in the passenger seat of the agency SUV. Mason’s kept his gaze away from her, but Clare can see the tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel, a slight tug of his mouth at the corners, as if swallowing any and all words he wants to say.

“Do you want to come inside?” It may be a foolish thing to ask, but Clare’s too tired to stop it. Tired, she thinks, but clear headed enough to be asking anyways.

For once, Mason looks surprised. His head jerks slightly as he turns to her, his grey eyes a storm that Clare doesn’t flinch away from.

“I don’t mind this-” Mason gestures between them. “-but I’m not going to feed your guilt here, Clare.”

“I’m not asking you to-” Clare begins, but Mason cuts her off at the pass.

“You’re the one who said we weren’t doing this, so excuse me if I’m confused.” The anger burns in his words and Clare flinches at the intensity that laces each syllable. Clare considers her words carefully, swallowing hard.

“I know. That’s what I said, I know,” and she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I meant it but…” 

“But?” There’s something dangerous about it, another question with too many layers, an undercurrent of the desire that runs in her blood echoed in his words. She’s drawn closer and closer without meaning to, her fingers tentative as she reaches out to him. He flinches briefly when she makes contact with his cheek and she wonders just _what_ he can feel buzzing around them and humming along her skin.

“I don’t want to fight this.” Honesty, or as close to it as she can get right now. Her mind is clear, despite the lack of sleep, and it’s the first time she’s said this aloud, even to herself. “Come inside, Mason, please?” 

In the dappled morning sunlight, Clare leads Mason up the steps of the rental she calls home. It’s cozy inside, cluttered with too many things and sentimental keepsakes that she has yet to take out of boxes. The door closes behind them and she turns to reach for him again.

The kiss this time is slower than before, intentional and thought-out, as much as it can be. In the morning light, his freckles show more than before, a scattering of galaxies on his bronzed skin. He leans in to kiss her again but she ducks, running her tongue across a cluster of freckles that peek out along the collar of his shirt, savoring the shudder that runs through him.

“Come here.” It’s a growl, his fingers grasping the base of her skull, pulling her back for a crushing kiss of teeth and tongue that pulls a breathless gasp from Clare in turn. Mason’s tongue glides along hers, the blunt edges of his teeth nipping hard on her lower lip, pressing her body against the nearest wall. She hits it with a soft _thunk_ , the kiss breaking as she laughs at the noise. It melts into a startled gasp when his lips skim along her throat, all but hovering over her pulse point.

“Yes,” Clare nods, threading her fingers through his hair, toes curling when he bites down _hard_ against her skin. Hard enough, she knows, to leave a mark, in a place that’s going to be hard to hide. She’s dizzy over it, briefly caught in panic of being caught, but she pulls herself back to the present, letting herself revel in the feelings awash in her when his tongue slides over to soothe the bite.

Shoes are first, kicked off in haste from the pair of them, with more thrown about and discarded as she pulls and tugs him up the stairs. Each bit of skin revealed, Clare has to pause to run her fingers over it, overwhelmed and caught in the middle of wanting to touch every single bit of Mason that she can reach. Her shirt comes next, dropping to the ground to mingle with his in the entryway. 

All she wants to do is _touch_ and _be touched_ , her hands leaving only to reach out and make sure she’s not running into the railing as he follows her lead up the stairs.

There’s a moment, caught on the landing, when Clare gives a shriek of surprise, lifted from the ground with shocking ease. Her legs wrap at his hips, grinding just slightly against the growing desire that’s front and center; Mason bites back a moan of his own, grey eyes meeting hers with pupils blown and the naked desire written across his face hard to miss.

“Do you want me?” Clare’s words are so quiet, one hand holding tight to his shoulder, the other gripping tightly in his hair. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mason moves, one step at a time, ascending to the top floor, carrying her as if she weighs nothing.

“I want to hear you say it.” Clare murmurs darkly, leaning in, latching her mouth to his exposed collarbone. It’s been a while since she’s wanted to do this (hell, she was probably a teenager the last time it seemed worth doing), using her teeth to bite down against his skin, sucking hard and fast. It makes his steps stutter, his grip tightening on her ass as he lets out a hissing groan. Pivoting slightly, he presses her against the nearest wall, panting when she pulls her mouth away from the mottled mark that blossoms against his skin.

“You know you drive me crazy,” he breathes, squeezing harder with his grip, making her suck in a quick breath. “I’ve wanted you since I met you.” This comes out softer than before, a moment of vulnerability that catches them both off-guard. There’s stillness in the air between them as Clare catches her breath, the grip she has on him loosening.

He may not be able to say it, not fully, and Clare knows how hollow her own words might be, but she can try.

“I want you.” She slants her mouth against his, letting him swallow the needy sound that escapes when he reaches back to unhook her bra. It’s almost comical, trying to navigate undressing when she’s in the air, shuddering when it’s gone as his chest presses against hers to catch her mouth again.

It’s a stumbling affair as Mason moves them both towards the bedroom on the top floor, pausing in the trek to press her against walls and grind into her, drawing little gasps and humming moans in turn. Clare doesn’t hesitate, reaching behind her when they hit the bedroom door, her fingers jiggling the handle _just right_ before it opens and Mason stumbles in with her.

“Down,” Clare commands with a small laugh; Mason huffs, but loosens his grip, letting her feet touch the ground again. Her pants come next, carefully shimmying out of her panties last. She pauses, hesitating as she catches sight of her ring.

It, too, slides from her, gently clattering in the ceramic dish she keeps on her dresser.

There’s no room for anyone else, not when he looks at her as though he wants to devour her whole. Her lips curl, her heart hammering as she steps back, moving until the backs of her legs hit the mattress. “Well?” she breathes, almost a challenge as he follows her without preamble.

“I want you undone,” Mason smirks, watching as she lays herself back along the perfectly made bed. “Begging and panting for more.” His tongue traces a line up her calf, biting down against her skin. “Begging for _me_.” His words alone seem to help this along, her face hot and flushed as he grins from where he settles between her legs.

“Promises, promises,” Clare can’t help the smart comment, her laugh turning to a curse when he leans in to run his tongue along the seam from her pelvis and hip. She jerks involuntarily, almost certain this is going to be the death of her. What better way to die, though, than by a thousand, little deaths?

His thumbs hook into her underwear (practical and plain cotton, not like she expected any of this), sliding them down, down, down, until she’s bare before him. In the daylight, she knows there’s no hiding anything from his keen eyes; the last time they were together like this, getting undressed fully wasn’t practical or necessary to find the release she sought.

Clare swallows hard, watching as he pauses to kick off his jeans. More freckles dot and crisscross along his thighs and, for a brief moment, Clare fervently hopes she can trace those with her tongue later. Then all thoughts vanish like smoke when he spreads her before him, his fingers running against her folds as she gives\\\\\ a sharp moan in response.

“So wet already, sweetheart,” Mason purrs, lifting a finger from her to suck away the slick. She shudders, acutely aware of just how _hot_ that is and how turned on she’s been since they stepped into the house.

And then his mouth descends upon her and Clare can’t help the arch of her back and the needy whimper that escapes her mouth. 

Mason’s very good with his hands, that much she already knows, but it’s truly a revelation when his mouth is against her most sensitive parts, tracing and sucking and fucking her with tongue and lips. Hell, even his teeth, giving the tiniest of nibbles that borders on painful without crossing that line. It’s just the right amount to make her moan his name, carding her fingers into his hair, gripping when he finds the right spot to make her whole body feel like it’s on fire.

There’s no toeing the line as Mason works with a single-minded purpose and Clare’s dizzy over it. He’s going to make her come, and he’s going to make her come _hard_. One finger, then another dip into her, crooking back and forth against the spot that threatens to make her come completely undone. There’s nothing dainty about this, her breathing coming in and out with ragged anticipation, whimpering and whispering a series of nonsensical words.

“Come, Clare, you know you want to.” His voice rumbles against her as the thrumming of her heart overtakes everything, the building pressure suddenly becoming too much and not enough, sending her in a spiral that has her calling out wordlessly against the bed. Her body thrashes when his mouth remains planted at her core, sucking hard on her, refusing to relent.

It’s too much and she tries to close her legs, but he holds her in place, his free hand pressing against her abdomen, the other still crooked inside her, wringing out another orgasm that hits harder and faster than the first one. Clare doesn’t know if she’s shouting or screaming, squeezing her eyes shut against the torrential downpour of sensations that washes over her again. She’s certain her fingernails bite too hard into his skin, but it doesn’t deter him from helping her ride this out.

There’s a ringing in her ears when he moves from her center, utterly pleased when all she can do is pant and moan with any touch that follows. 

Mason brushes his hands along her sides, tracing up over her breasts as she gives a shiver, not sure if she wants to turn towards or away from his touch. “Lovely,” he’s smirking against her skin, pressing his mouth to one pebbled nipple, sucking sloppily at it. “I guess I’ll give you a minute.”

Clare doesn’t have words yet, pulling him towards her instead, kissing him hard. His face is damp from her, but that’s never mattered before and it sure doesn’t matter now. Mason hums into the kiss, letting Clare take the lead, one hand cradling the side of her face while the other remains idly at her breast.

It’s a long moment before they come up for air as Clare, caught in the afterglow, can’t help the lazy sort of smile that spreads across her lips. “If I’d known how talented that tongue was,” she murmurs, brushing her nose against his in a rare form of affection, “I’d have asked for you to do that _much_ sooner.”

He brushes some hair away from her face, a smug look of satisfaction surfacing without any effort. “It’s a hidden gift, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, I suppose.” Her hands wander down his body, slipping past the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs. “I think the real gift is in here.” She can’t help the amused little smirk that slips across her features as all his attention seems to follow her hand as it brushes against him. Mason may have his eyes on her, but it’s unfocused and wanting.

“I need you. Now.”

Clare’s still loose-limbed from before, shuddering a little as she watches him slip the last bit of clothing from his body. He looks so lovely, morning light catching and fragmenting in the crystal that stays wrapped around his neck. She reaches to take it off, to help, but he dodges her, shaking his head. 

“That stays on.” The gravity behind his words puzzles her, but Clare doesn’t question the reasoning behind it. Instead, she just nods, trailing her hands down his chest. She hasn’t seen the trail of hair that leads from his chest down to his cock before, enjoying the soft texture of it and almost laughing at the little map to where she knows where he wants to be touched most of all.

Clare doesn’t make him wait long, obliging him as she runs a thumb across his length, catching a small bead of precum that she uses to make her thumb glide back down to the base. He remains kneeling between her legs, stock-still as she explores gently with her hands. And, seemingly catching him off-guard, she sits up, letting her tongue slide against him with ease.

Mason gives a choked little groan, his eyes watching with heated intensity as she takes him into her mouth. It almost makes her laugh when he gives a soft, but very empathetic, “ _Fuck_.” in response. It’s almost obscene the noises that she makes, sucking and licking in turn to tease him. Her own limbs feel like jello, drawing a deep breath through her nose, taking him deeper than before, pleased with the guttural groan she draws from him.

“You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart.” His fingers coax her mouth from him, shifting and leaning to pull her into a hard, deep kiss. He overwhelms and crowds her, a leg sliding to part hers in turn. 

There’s a moment of soft tenderness as he slides into her, his hand gripping her jaw firmly. “Eyes on me,” he commands and Clare doesn’t let her gaze waver, too hot, and flushed at the sheer magnitude of it all. “Don’t hold back, Clare. I want to hear you.” Mason gives a murmuring growl, the first few thrusts shallow and somewhat gentle; that, of course, is followed by him nearly pulling from her, snapping back _hard_ and all the breath leaves her lungs.

In the daylight, there’s nothing to hide behind. Clare lets her hands and gaze wander along his body, sinking her fingers into his skin, his hair, anywhere she can grasp, memorizing him in this moment. The sheer fact that she wants him more than anything should terrify her; the implications alone should be enough to scare her straight against this turning tide of emotion.

There’s no fighting the current, a low moan escaping as he shifts, nudging one leg and then the other over his shoulders. It’s wet and loud and she’s panting as he hits right along her clit with each thrust in. She should be finished, depleted of any other pleasure, but it still grows and coils within her belly, white-hot, and ready to burn her alive.

Clare lets it consume her, louder than before as she comes hard. She feels heavy and light all at the same time, caught between being a weight on the blankets and simply floating above it all. She’s still shuddering as he pulls out, drawing an indignant whimper from her at the loss of him. His teeth sink into her shoulder, letting her legs fall as they shift, her back pressing against his chest as he enters her again once she’s on her side.

This angle proves to be _sinfully_ good as Mason moves to set a hard, fast pace between them; one hand slides between her legs, the other clutching her breast. “That’s it,” Mason growls as she arches into him, shuddering, closer to losing control of himself with each thrust. They’re becoming less controlled, stuttering a little as Clare turns her head to draw him in for a sloppy kiss that’s more teeth than lips.

“Mason-” Clare can’t find the words, his name the only one she can recall as he tweaks her nipple in a pinching grip that shoots directly between her legs. Each wet thrust is bringing her closer again, brow pinching as she presses her cheek into the pillow beneath her head. “ _Fuck_.” He’s drawing tight, little circles between her legs and the sensation is enough to drag her over the edge again.

Her throat aches as she tries to find her breath again, almost to tears with...what is it? Emotions tangle and weave together as she tries to find her footing. Mason’s grip grows tight on her, his forehead pressing against her shoulder. A few more thrusts and he’s tumbling, his whole body growing tense, the warmth spreading into Clare as he pants and moans through it.

Silence follows, only broken by the thudding of her heart and Mason panting into her sweat-soaked skin. Until-

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to move again. Ever.” Clare can’t help the giggle that escapes, tired and bright, riding the high of all of this. She feels, rather than sees, the smirk against her shoulder, his lips ghosting across her skin, making her shudder from the touch. Every part of her feels too sensitive as she lets out an uneven breath.

“Then I did my job right.” Mason gives a huffing sort of laugh, all pride, and maybe a little humor. Clare considers smacking him for the ego, but that requires her to move and, well, she’s not ready to. That would mean to untangle their limbs, to break this moment where Clare simply wants to be held. She’s not certain Mason would agree with that when presented with it; the thought alone pricks a hole in her emotions, feeling herself deflate just slightly.

“You could stay a while,” Clare murmurs softly, turning to sneak a glance over her shoulder at him. “Maybe when I can feel my legs again, I could make tea or breakfast?” 

He doesn’t answer her, not with words. A hand smoothes down along her side, a hard kiss against her shoulder. “You need sleep, Clare.”

Part of her knows it’s suggestion, a way out of the conversation she wants to have, but her eyes feel heavy, the warmth of the covers and the steady beating of his heart keeping her anchored and calm. 

“Stay until I sleep?” Her voice comes out softer, making a small noise as he slipped out from her. There’s hesitation in his touch, if only for a moment, and it’s followed by a small nod she feels rather than sees.

“Just close your eyes. I won’t go yet.”

* * *

In the morning light, Mason watches as Clare drifts off to sleep. It’s hard not to feel a small sense of pride, knowing that he’s the one who wore her out so completely. No sleep the night before may have added to it, but he likes to believe that it’s mostly him. 

He knows he should leave her; he’s never been one to stick around after, preferring to slip away with his partners being none the wiser. It’s easier on all parties: Mason doesn’t have to deal with feeling anything more than he does and everyone gets to go back to their own lives, no harm, no foul.

It’s different this time though, and Mason knows there’s no turning back to their own lives. Clare is intertwined with him, with the Unit and the detective; there’s no escaping her or whatever _this_ is becoming. Oh, certainly, Mason doesn’t mind this dalliance, nor does he have any qualms over the fact that Clare will be married to her fiance someday. It’s not the first time he’s been here, and he’s not afraid to toe that line again.

Mason pauses in his motions, fingers caught on the zipper of his jeans as he watches her breathing in and out. Clare’s hair is tangled, shining golden while her skin seems to soak in the sunlight and turn her from pale to rosy before his eyes. It takes restraint to keep him from reaching out again just to _touch_ her, to see how she’ll stir in sleep to his fingers. It’s almost selfish to want to see her undone again.

But, if he’s honest, there’s _more_ to it than just the shaking and sighing noises she makes, or the way her mouth melds against his.

Too soft, he realizes with a shake of his head, hand extending to gently tuck a strand of gold away from her face. She sighs in her sleep, face turning into the spot where his hand was, but he moves too quickly to let that linger. He’ll be gone when she wakes, it’s for the best. Mason knows better than to get comfortable in the sunlight - stay too long, and he’ll simply burn. He turns, swallowing back whatever _this_ was, leaving before he sinks any further.


End file.
